Also, Angels
by LesbiniOne
Summary: My take on how Brittana ended up in the "Run Joey Run" video.


Santana had Brittany pinned up against the red metal in the Cheerios locker room, her thumbs tracing soft patterns on the taut, defined muscles of the blonde's abs. She nuzzled the warm, pale skin on Brittany's neck, all the while flicking out a tongue in random spots to taste and tease the taller girl in front of her.

"Christ, I thought Glee was never going to end. I've been wanting to do this all day," she said as she began sliding her hands higher up the other girl's cheer top. Her hands moved to cup and squeeze soft mounds; she moaned softly before raising lips to the shell of Brittany's ear and asking in a low, sultry voice, "So tell me, what do you want to do?"

Brittany giggled, "Rachel".

Santana groaned as she dropped her forehead to Brittany's shoulder. "B, I've told you. I don't care how much you think she looks like she would be a freaky little monkey in bed, I am NOT tag-teaming Berry with you."

She heard a gasp behind her at the same time as she heard the blonde say, "No, Rachel is behind us."

She stiffened, immediately yanking her hands out from under Brittany's uniform. She froze, her mind racing before instinct took over and she turned slowly with her arms crossed and her bitchface on. Immediately she took the offensive.

"What the hell are you doing in here, Stubbles?" Santana felt a hand on her arm and knew it was a nonverbal reminder of her promise to Brittany that now that they were teammates in Glee, she would quit calling the grating diva by demeaning nicknames. She looked over at the girl next to her and scowled, then turned back around to address the source of her ever escalating annoyance, "And more importantly, how did you know the door code to get in?"

Rachel preened, as usual more than willing to share the wonders of her superior powers of deduction. "There are approximately 10,000 permutations for a four-digit code, but given that the code had to be something that even the...uh," she looked over at a blankly smiling Brittany, "most intellectually challenged of the Cheerios could remember, and also keeping in mind Coach Sylvester's massive ego-"

"Pot," Santana murmured.

Rachel ignored her, "I knew it had to be something self-referential so I tried Coach Sylvester's birth day and month and voila!" Rachel beamed.

Santana lifted an eyebrow, incredulous, "You know Sylvester's birthday?"

"I know the birthdays of all the staff at McKinley High. While my grades are of course earned through rigorous application of study, it never hurts to be on a teacher's good side. An apple and a sincere wish of 'Happy Birthday' can always be counted on to put a smile on someone's face."

Santana guffawed, "Holy shit, Berry. Just when I think you can't possibly be more of a kiss ass...So anyway, that explains the how, now what the hell do you want?"

The other brunette's bright smile faltered briefly at the Cheerleader's derision, but not one to back down when she needed something, Rachel bravely continued, "I have come here today to offer the two of you a proposition."

The words were barely out of her mouth before Brittany was squealing and clapping, an enthusiastic "Yes" issuing forth from the blonde's lips.

Two sets of confused brown eyes turned towards her.

"What the hell, B?" Santana asked frowning.

Rachel was wary, "Brittany, while I appreciate your eager acceptance of said proposal, don't you want to know what it is before you agree?"

Brittany smiled smugly, "I know what a proposition is. It's making out."

Rachel and Santana looked at each other, Santana shrugged at Rachel's unasked question.

Brittany, seeing the look the brunette's were exchanging, continued, "What you guys? Mr. Kinney explained what it was when he offered to clean the bird crap out of my locker."

One set of brown eyes rolled as Santana shook her head. Rachel cleared her throat and studied the ground as she digested this inappropriate, and possibly illegal tidbit of information. But once again, not to be deterred, she chose to ignore what Brittany had said, and smiling brightly looked back up at the two girls in front of her.

"As intriguing and, well, slightly disturbing as that explanation is, that is not in actuality the basis for the offer I have for the two of you." She turned towards Santana, knowing she would be the harder of the two to sway.

"As you know, in a travesty of epic proportions I have found myself placed at the bottom of the so-called 'Glist'. In an effort to prove that my low score is unfounded and to show that I have heretofore unknown depths of brazen sexuality-"

Rachel continued to talk but all Santana heard was 'blah blah blah' as she took a moment to look the girl up and down in an attempt to figure out what had Brittany so fascinated with Big Mouth Smurf. Sure she had wicked fine legs, and she guessed her face was kind of pretty if you were into the ethnic type. And, it was possible that under those heinous sweaters and ridiculously short skirts Manhands was hiding a hot body, but seriously, having to listen to her talk would be a total and complete mood killer. Of course, with a firm hand that mouth could be put to better use than non-stop word vomit. She smirked briefly at the visual before catching herself and shaking her head in disgust at her traitorous thoughts.

Rachel saw the smirk and shake of her head and knew she was losing the ill-tempered Latina. She directed her attention to Brittany, "-is clearly misinformed, which is evident if you consider that two of my previous romantic partners and my current one are-" Rachel continued speaking which she considered was probably a waste of her breath, seeing as how the blonde had her head tilted down and instead of listening, had blue eyes focused intently on Rachel's legs. As if sensing Rachel's attention on her, the blond lifted her head and grinned. Then she winked. Rachel turned back to Santana.

"-offering a once in a lifetime opportunity to portray angels and be a part of this visionary artistic testament to my appeal." She finished with a megawatt, and what she hoped was convincing smile.

Santana curled her lip and leaned forward, "Are you saying you want us to be in your shitty video? Are you kidding me? It's bad enough associating with you through Glee, like I want something captured on film that says I actually know you? No fucking way, forget it."

"Do we get to wear wings?" Brittany asked, her eyes wide with excitement.

Rachel sensing weakness, nodded her head up and down rapidly, "Yes, of course."

Santana whipped her head over and growled in her direction, "B! No!"

Rachel watched for a moment as the blonde turned and sent a pout in the angry cheerleader's direction. But once Brittany started rubbing the other girl's arm and batting her lashes at the Latina, she thought it safest to direct her attention away from the two girls before Santana decided her observation of this intimate gesture warranted a threat of physical harm. She could hear furious whispering coming from the other girls and knew that Brittany had stepped closer to Santana but Rachel kept her eyes firmly anywhere but where they could accidentally make eye contact. Finally her patience was rewarded.

"Fine!" Santana said, huffing and looking thoroughly disgusted. "We'll do it."

Now it was Rachel's turn to clap excitedly as she beamed at her two new co-stars. "Excellent! I'll get back to you with all the pertinent details regarding when and where we will begin filming. I assure you, you will not regret this."

Santana gave another one of her epic eye rolls and said, "Fat chance, considering I already do."

Knowing the value of a well-timed exit, Rachel had turned to leave but was stopped short when Brittany, brows furrowed in confusion asked, "Does this mean we're not all going to make-out?"

Once again two pairs of brown eyes turned to each other. There was an awkward, much longer than either Rachel or Santana would have anticipated pause, before they both turned to the blonde and firmly said, "NO!"

Ignoring Brittany's crestfallen look, Rachel turned and began striding towards the locker room exit. Intrigued or not, a Sapphic menage-a-trois was not something she cared to indulge in at this juncture of her young life. She would save that for college.


End file.
